Issue 49, Winter 1994-5

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Vol 2 No 49
£1.25
CONTENTS
The Goddess Is Alive in Guernsey
Asphodel
New Shoes for New Weather
Daniel Cohen
Crone Woman of Lanyon Quoit Scrying (drawing)
Jill Smith
Arlecchino and the Monstrous Regiment (concluded)
Jan Henning
A Goddess at Sheppey?
Asphodel
It's Nearly Midwinter
Jill Smith
Snake Power (poem)
Helena Hinn
The Sacred Landscape around Dyrham (drawing and comments)
Charles Shepherd
Plus reviews, miscellanv. etc. Front cover by Lou Hart.
© 1994 Daniel Cohen and Jan Henning. Individual writings and drawings
write to Wood and Water for permission to reprint
by their creators. Please
Wood and Water, volume 2, number 49. Winter 1994-5.
A Goddess-centred feminist-influenced pagan magazine
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Winter Solstice 1994
Not many seasonal greetings in Chechnia this week. Just the same scenes as we've become accustomed
to seeing in Bosnia. As I write, there appears to be some evidence that the invading Russian army is itself
suffering doubts as to its role. It keeps being stopped by massed ranks of unarmed grannies defending the
roads to their small capital with splendid but desperate defiance. One has to say in favour of parts of Ihe
Russian army that they show more respect for passive resistance than do the police and contractors' agents
who clear the way for road building in Wanstead and Solsbury.
The Dark season needs its mid-winter festival, to assure us that the light will come again. Unfortunately
the erstaz glow of official chistmas tells us only that greedy commerce and corrupt politics will flourish in the
coming year. Seldom has the whole thing seemed such a hollow sham as this year, with the homeless ever
more numerous on the shopping malls, and people being pressured into ever more consumerism.
I personally can't see a way out.
Jan Henning
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1
THE GODDESS IS ALIVE IN GUERNSEY
The small island of Guernsey in the English Channel is the home of two major prehistoric Goddess
statues and numerous dolmens and other megalithic monuments, some of them in particularly fine condition.
On a visit there, over the period of the autumn equinox this year, I felt enormously blessed to be able to
encounter and experience some of these monuments.
The Goddesses are called "gran'meres" (grandmothers) by the local people and are also referred to as
"earth mothers". They appear to be taken for granted, but unless you have some idea of what you are looking
for, they might be difficult to find because the tourist industry more or less ignores them, and such illustrations
or postcards that are available are not sold in the shops. In fact, the places to acquire them are the churches
where the Goddesses stand, in both cases in a place of honour.
The Gran'mere at Catel stands on a height at the church entrance. The dates given for her are 2500-1800
BCE, and she was found in 1878 buried beneath the chancel. It is very interesting that she was then placed in a
position where every one going in and out of the church must be fully aware of her and pass close by her.
Le^cal people assume that the church stands on a site previously sacred to her, and this appears to be quite
natural.
The other Goddess megalith is at St. Martin's Church, here placed at the churchyard gate, and again
everyone and everything going into the churchyard or church passes her. The day I visited, a funeral was
taking place, and it was extremely moving to see the cortege carried past her and under her eye. This figure is
described as neolithic, representing the prehistoric Mother Goddess, but the face and cloak are thought to have
been added in Gallo-Roman times (say 200BCE-200CE). A local prehistorian, Mr. J. Stevens-Cox who
kindly provided a great deal of information personally, writes of this Goddess in his booklet Prehistoric
Monuments of Guernsey: "In the early 19th century it was referred to as an 'idol of the aboriginal inhabitants'.
Much folklore surrounds La Gran'mere: and until comparatively recent times it was considered propitious to
place an offering of fruit or flowers at the base of the statue... I have spoken to old inhabitants who told me that
when they were young, on May Day, they had placed flowers at its base and on its head for good luck... La
Gran'mere was also referred to by local people as "Julius Giesar's Grandmother"'."
I was only able to visit a few of the wonderful dolmens and passage graves on the island. Almost a
perfect place is the La Delias megalithic tomb at a site coincidentally ( ! ) called Paradis. Here you enter with
bent back through a low and narrow passage and come out into a higher circular space built of megaliths with
a single one in the centre. Apparently at one time the tomb was surrounded by an outer stone circle. I use the
word tomb because that is how it is described in the guide book, but in fact the word womb would be far more
accurate. It is safe and still with a wemderful atirmsphere of peace and calm. Before you reach the main
chamber there are two side chambers (one each side of the passage), and just as you enter it, you see. on the
capstone abewe. the graven figure of a human being (possibly a man as it may be bearded but that is not clear)
who is thought to be a "pagan deity or protector of the tomb".
Ane>ther marvelloas experience is to visit the single chamber tomb of Le Trépied, at Le Gitiorec in the
Parish of St. Saviour. It stands on a kind of headland above the sea where there a a rocky and wild coastline.
Le Trépied is of special importance for us. It is said to be the most famous of all Guernsey megaliths because it
was (and is?) the meeting place of the witches. Stevens-Cox writes:
"In the 17th century it was noted as the midnight haunt of the witches and wizards and one of the chief
Sabbats of Guernsey was held here every Friday night ... even in the late 19th century no respectable woman
of the neighbourhood would gei anywhere near Le Gitiorec on Friday nights". It is also stated that according to
the witches "confessions" the devil visited there and was called Baal Berit or Barberie. This is rather
remarkable because Baal Berit can be translated from the Hebrew as "The Lord promises". Is there a
coincidence here or is it intentional?
As for Barberie it is usually taken lo be something lo do with pirates and the Barbary Coast. Again the
site has a marked positive and calming atmosphere; ein a day of great gusts of wind, the inside of the
2
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monument was silent and sale. The name Le Trépied refers, it is said, to the three great capstones but it also
reminds us of the Triple Goddess.
There are many other megalithic sites on the island and it is a true treasure hunt to find them. They are
of the past and of the present. For example I heard that "the white witches" are still operating there. Someone
told me that when a new development was announced and local people did not want it, they called in the white
witches and the development would not take place. Alsei that there was a group of smaller megalithic circles
near the extreme S.West coast called Fairy Rings where witches still gather.
When I arrived home and was describing my visit tei a neighbour, she told me she had lived on
Alderney. a neighbouring even smaller island, for ten years. Yes there was a large dolmen there, she said, "but
no-one took any notice of it". I also recalled that on Jersey, the largest of the Channel islands, there is the
remarkable huge Neolithic long barrow called La Hougue Bie.
Lastly it is important to remember the witch persecution on these islands. At the Witch Museum in
Jersey there is a roll of honour of their names on the walls, while one of the books available also lists them all.
This is rather a problematical publication called These Haunted Islands by Chris Duke and is subtitled The
story of Witchcraft in the Channel Islands.
Although presented in rather a garish way there is some good factual information in it. The reports of
the Court Records and Court Decisions are of particular value. Reading the names and the sentences is both
horrific and inspiring. I felt as I left the island that not only does it add to our knowledge of history and
herstory; it includes as in the unending and unbroken circle.
Publications recommended: (mostly obtainable from the Guernsey Museum. St. Peter Port, and
bookshops on the Island.)
Prehistoric Monuments of Guernsey. J. Stevens-Cox. Toucan Press Guernsey. 1982
3
-
Les Fouaillages
and the Megalithic Monuments
of Guernsey. Ian Kinnes. The Ampersand Press.
Alderney. 1983.
These Haunted Islands. Chris Lake. Redberry Press. Jersey. 1986
Walks with a Car in Guernsey. Alan Barber. The Guernsey Press. Guernsey. 1988.
Asphodel
Postscript. Some time after my return I found more information about the Stone Age sites in the
Channel Islands. La Hougue Bie at Jersey is magnificent, but is only one of many. The official Jersey
Museums guide to the archaeology of Jersey describes La Cotte de St. Brelade as "by far the most important
palaeolithic site in Jersey; indeed the only cave/shelter in the British Isles to yield a sequence of deposits
approaching the range and importance of those commonly found in S.W. France." Not only "artificially
disposed hoards" of huge animal bones mainly of mammoth and rhinoceros were discovered there, but also
bones of Neanderthal human inhabitants. There are many later neolithic tombs, dolmens, and menhirs, while
the Bronze Age has provided tools, pottery, and jewellery.
It is necessary to record that a dolmen unearthed in Jersey near St. Helier was remcwed, with the
consent of the Jersey Stales, by the then Governor, Marshal Conway, to his country scat at Henley. Another
sad tale: a menhir, siluated on the island of Herrn acted for thousands of years as a sea mark for mariners,
warning them when they were near a group of dangerous rocks. It was pulled down to be taken to England to
be used as a plinth, but found to be too heavy. So it was broken up, and the pieces used as a cargo of ordinary
granite. This story is told by John Uttley in his book The Story of the Channel Islands (Faber 1966).
Describing the people who built the menhirs he writes (pp 13-14): "te) preserve this [the fertility of man, soil
and beast] the spirits of earth and water had to be propitiated and the great Mother-Goddess, the presiding
genius of all growth, to be worshipped."
So, if we travel just across the water to this group of small islands, we find Her there, not only in Her
sites but still in the memory of the descendants of the people who worshipped Her.
NEW SHOES FOR NEW WEATHER
At the time I thought it was a coincidence. I had been walking along the street on a rainy day when I
saw a brightly lit shop-front in the distance. "Speedy Shoes" it said. I noted without much interest that this was
a new shop. Just then I realised that my shoes were leaking badly. Evidently I needed a new pair.
Set I squelched along lo the shop, and looked at the window. Several pairs looked possible
replacements, so I went in. The salesman — perhaps he was the owner, as it was a small shop — approached
me. a young man with golden hair and a bright smile. I wondered why he was holding a stick, as he didn't
seem to have anything wrong with him, but I soon found out that he used it for emphasis, thumping it on the
ground just before he said anything he thought was important. And he talked a lot, telling me just why all the
pairs I liked weren't right for me. You've heard ed' people who can talk the hind leg off a donkey. Well, the
salesman could have talked that hind leg back onto the donkey.
He was so persuasive that, since he had talked me out of the shoes I liked. I asked him what he would
recommend. He brought out an odd-looking pair which didn't appeal to me at all. "Try them on" he said.
"You'll find them se) comfortable that you'll think you're walking on air. You'll go so fast that it will feel as if
ye)u are flying."
I tried them on. and they did feel comfortable. I still wasn't sure about their appearance, that odd
decoration at the front like an eye, and the unusual leathery feel on the outside of the ankles. But, as he
continued to praise these shoes as just right for me. I grew inclined to buy them.
4
"He)w much are they" I asked. "Thirtyfive peiunds, ninelynine pence." I remembered that I had left my
chequebook at home, but reached into my wallet for a credit card. They weren't there! I couldn't understand it;
I was sure they had been there when I went out, and I hadn't opened my wallet until then. Well, I would just
have to check when I got back home.
I pulled out a twenty pound note, and a ten pound note from the wallet, and a five pound note from my
pocket. I reached further into the pocket for some change, and found I had ninety pence in my hand. Digging
further in revealed only a further seven pence. "This will do, won't it" I said, confidently. I was surprised
when he answered "No, sir, it won't do. These shoes are a bargain at thirtyfive pounds ninetynine pence. They
are worth much more, and I couldn't reduce the price for anyone, not even if he were to thunder at me with all
his might." I began to put my money away, when he made a very strange suggestion. "For you, sir, I will take
only thirtyfive pounds ninetyseven pence now. But ye)u must promise to pay me the remaining two pence next
time you see me. that is, unless you then feel sure that you need the money more for some other purpose." I
couldn't understand what he meant. Why was he putting me to so much trouble? And why might I want the
money more for some other purpose? And, if I did, why would he let me off the payment?
I put the shoes on — very comfortable they were — and walked along to the nearest Tube. I was just
about to walk down the stairs when I realised that one shoe was very uncomfortable. Sitting down at a bus
slop, I took the shoe off. No wonder il was uncomfortable. Though I have no idea how they could have got
there, or why I hadn't noticed earlier. I found my credit cards were inside the shoe.
I put them back in my wallet, and had just got the shoe back on when a bus came along. I decided I
might as well take it instead of the Underground. A good thing I did so! That was one of the days the whole
system was disrupted; if I hadn't stopped when I did. and taken the bus instead. I would have spent two hours
stuck in a tunnel.
Well, a couple of days later I went back to the shop. With what the salesman said I felt I had to pay him
the tiny amount owing. But the shop was closed, with a notice saying "Closed. Owner gone travelling." I
didn't know why he felt we would want to have that extra bit of information.
It's an odd thing about those shoes. Whenever I wear them I find that I end up in the right place. The
right place for me, or the right place to help someone, or the right place to get or give some piece of
information or news that is needed. And it's not always the place I intended to go to. On one occasion I started
out to take my passport to renew it before it expired. But I got side-tracked, and found myself at Heathrow.
Without quite knowing what I was doing I phoned a friend abroad — not as expensive as it sounds, as I had a
calling card with that company which competes with British Telecom — and what I heard made me decide to
gel on a plane for an immediate visit Yes, those sheies have landed me in some odd places.
No. I haven't seen the salesman again yet. He seemed certain that 1 would, and lately I have begun to
see why. I haven't been quite so happy wearing the shoes since I realised that. They always take me to the
right place to be. Some time that will be near a river-bank, and I'll see him again. And. no. I won't give him
the two pennies I owe him. I'll have a greater need for them, to pay the ferryman who will take anyone across
the river for two pence, but will never take anyone back.
Daniel Cohen
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ARLECCHINO AND THE MOSTROUS REGIMENT
d
(concluded)
Animals.
Animal Masks are fun to wear: liberating and free-moving. I find they concentrate first and foremost on
their 'animal-ness' and only peripherally (or not at all) on their gender. They may thus be used as 'neutral'
masks in respect to gender, but only if the wearer sees it in this way. In any case, to inhabit a Stag Mask (say)
is quite a different experience from inhabiting a human Male Mask, or even a human-form Fertility Mask,
such as Jack-in-the-Green. The gender dimension is approached quite differently.
The making and working with animal masks is an area I have just begun to explore, and I hope to
pinpoint their effects in more detail as the work progresses.
e
A Note on Neutrality.
Although a certain amount has been written about the so-called Neutral Mask, it appears to me
uncertain just what improvisers and drama gurus are trying to achieve. Lecoq suggests that a Neutral Mask
must be "... without a past, open, ready ...'*\ but his so- called 'Neutral' Masks are gender-differentiated. If he
sees even 'neutrality' as a gendered concept, then his mask—sexism is perhaps too ingrained for him to
change this late in life. He is therefore wise to withdraw himself from Commedia studies, influential though he
has been in the area.
This having been said, I am not sure that anyone has tried to work with a non-gendered Neutral Mask. I
have attempted it twice, with inconclusive results. On both occasions I experienced difficulties with the work;
the first time encountering a "plateau' beyond which the Masks did not go; and the second time, myself
making a quite appalling elementary blunder the memory of which still makes me cringe. I'm just beginning
to realise that I made these mistakes precisely because this may be breaking new ground. Consequently I need
to do a great deal more work on the concept of the non-gendered Neutral Mask, beginning with design and
construction.
f
The Trickster/androgyne.
I am unsure of the amount of help the Mask will give to a woman seeking an androgynous balance. One
has to keep constantly in mind the fact that these very central and fundamental Mask-forms are Tricksters, and
that they can be cruel, nasty, obscene and scaleilogical as well as entertaining, funny and beguiling. Therefore,
I began to wonder if there were any exercises to encourage an androgynous mindset. Joy Press, in an article for
the Guardian Women's page 7 gives an account of a workshop which women attended in order to ".. try on the
male guise and enter the male domain". In order to do this, the women wore false penises and facial hair, and
bound up their breasts.
However, in order to enter androgyny, one would need to image or counterfeit all the genital organs.
The concept — once one begins to envisage practicalities — is so mind-boggling that I am still floundering
around with ideas (or lack of them) for an Androgyny Workshop". It would work very differently for males
and for females, I would guess. I would also hazard that stance and balance would be crucial in the identity of
the androgyne.
Then one would inhabit the Mask ...
A short digression into matters literary occurred to me at this point:
In recent years a small but quite significant number of women writers have produced novels featuring
male, distinctly androgynous, heroes. In at least two cases, the novel-series in which these heroes appear has
reached cult status. These are the six monumental 'Lymond' novels by Dorothy Dunnctt 8 , and more recently.
Anne Rice's equally huge 'Vampire Chronicles" 9, principally featuring the flamboyant 'bisexual' vampire
Lestat. In addition there is the slightly less well-known Swordspoint10 by Ellen Kushner, which also features a
bisexual hero — the swordsman Richard de Veré. In all these works, one can trace an active — and highly
7
vigorous — redefinition of masculinity: but because they are in 'non-literary' genres (historical novel;
gothic/horrt>r newel; fantasy novel), their impeirtance in the gender-debate has, perhaps, not been fully
realised. Ellen Kushner has also published a couple of short stories 11 whose 'hero', Lazarus Merridon, began
life as a woman. Kushner cites Dunnett as an influence on these short stories. In fact Dunnelt, writing in the
'60s, was a little coy in her descriptions of her hem's same-sex encounters, although it is made quite clear that
Lymond is irresistibly attractive to both genders.
Since these glamorous gentlemen are the heroes, we are invited, as in the fairytales, to identify with
them, rather than to fall in love with them (although I'm sure readers have done both).
In view of this, and of the undoubted popularity of both Lymond and Lestat; not to mention a recent
explosion in America, of bisexual-vampire Lestai bite-alikes, perhaps I shall find — if I ever manage to put
together an Androgyny Workshop — that the participants are more sophisticated and better informed than I
am!
g
A Final Note on Archetypes.
In this section, I have outlined a number of existing archetypes which may be examined in Mask format
from a specifically feminine-gendered position. There is plenty to be getting on with!
The need neiw is for women to build up their own personal repertoire of Mask archetypes. Discussions
and workshops would enable women — and men too — to compare experiences. Hopefully, this process may
throw up some new slants on familiar archetypes; and might even give us some 'new' lemale-centred
universals.
Ill
Some Practical Considerations
In this final seetkm. I want to look very briefly indeed at the nuts-and-bolts of masking, noting
particular points which may be useful to would-be maskers, both male and female.
a
'The Art of the Inconvenient'
This succinct description was given to me by Dr Po h Sim Plowright 12 and relates to wearing Japanese
Noh masks. It is, hewever. a very good description of all masking. A wearer must be prepared to encounter all
or some of the following:
(i) restricted vision and altered perspective through the eyeholes
(ii) excessive seating within the confines of the mask
(iii) restricted breathing
(iv) in some cases, chafing either at the sides of the mask, or around the eyeholes.
These days items (iii) and (iv) may be remediable, but (i) and (ii) are not. They are part of the masking
experience. New practitioners should be aware of them.
b
Masking materials
Opinions as to the ideal material for masks differ widely. Rudlin 13 is of the opinion that only leather
gives the right organic interaction between mask and wearer. Some people would find this unacceptable. I
personally take exception to 'selastic'. the medium used by most theatrical maskmakers. This is because it is a
rigid plastic-based substance which must be soaked in acetate in order to soften it. The maker mast then shape
it with her bare fingers onto the mould, thus risking absorption of acetate direct into the bloodstream, and
pungent glue-like fumes. The wearer also risks the fumes whilst the mask is new. I therefore buy ready-made
plastic mask-forms and/or make up papier maché (the latter strengthened with Polycell and Polyl'illa). Thus, I
toe) am using modern plastic-based materials, but hopefully with less risk to myself and to the wearers.
8
c
Voice Production
Once on, the Mask may well find its own voice. I am currently looking at ways in which a woman may
deepen her speaking (and singing) voice. There are already techniques (other than castration) whereby a man
can raise his vocal pitch (counter-tenors da it all the time). Preliminary indications suggest that the mechanism
may be the same. I continue to investigate this area ...
d
'The Ministry of Iuinny Walks'
Without wishing to inhibit the movements and gestures which the Mask itself may dictate to the wearer,
it might nonetheless be useful to build up a stock repertoire of pantomime, Noh or commedia movements.
Formality of this kind might be necessary in some ritual situations, for example; and is required within the
dramatic forms mentioned.
Finally, I am particularly anxious to get feedback on these very tentative ideas which I have been
putting forward. If you have any experiences or ideas which might be relevant; or if you can't wait to tell me
I'm talking through the back end of my mask, please contact me at the usual W&W addresses ...
References
1. Rudlin. John. Commedia dell'Arte: an Actor's Handbook. Routledge 1994. pp 201—202.
2. Ibid. p.35.
3.1bid. p.77.
4. GIMBUTAS. Marija. Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe. Thames and Hudson 1974, pp 57-66.
5. HENNING, Jan. Quote from unpublished (indeed, unfinished) novel Son of Flame, an autobiography of
Loki Laufeyiarson who. like the writer, experienced trouble with this sort of 'hero' all his life.
6. Quoted in FROST. Anthony and YARROW. Ralph. Improvisation in Drama. Macmillan New Directions in
Theatre 1990, p. 107.
7. PRESS, Joy. "Walk like a Man", Guardian Women, 4 May 1994.
8. DUNNETT, Dorothy. A Game of Kings 1962. Queen's Play 1964, The Disorderly Knights 1966, Pawn in
Frankincense 1969, The Ringed Castle 1971, Checkmate 1975. [All dates of first publication] Currently in
print with Arrow Bex>ks.
9. RICE, Anne. Interview with the Vampire. Futura 1976. The Vampire Lestat. Futura 1985. Queen of the
Damned. Macdonald 1988. The Tale of the Body Thief. Penguin 1992.
10. KUSHNER. Ellen. Swordspoint. Unwin 1987.
11. KUSHNER, Ellen. "The Unicorn Masque" in Elsewhere. Ace Fantasy 1981. "Lazarus" in Heroic Visions
11. Ace Fantasy 1986.
12. In her lecture le) the M.A. Text and Performance students at King's College, London, Spring 1993.
13. Ibid.
Jan Henning
!
9
«i
A GODDESS AT SHEPPEY?
News of a Celtic figure, possibly a triple goddess, found in 1991 on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent, has
been sent to Wood and Water by Brian Slade, Hon. President and Secretary of the Sheppey Archaeological
Society. The information is contained in two booklets written by Mr. Slade, The Well of the Triple Goddess,
Minster Abbey and The Well of the Triple Goddess: what the experts say.
The figure is a metal silhouette of a female whose three heads share the same body which appears to be
heavily pregnant. A number of beeswax copiers of the figure, all in a good state of preservation, were also
found during the excavation. This took place at the Minster Abbey Well, at Minster. Sheppey. The sacred use
of the site of the Abbey (Monasterium Sexburga) is known to precede the Christian building which is dated to
about 640-670CE. It may well be one of the oldest places where continuous worship can be traced in Britain.
Brian Slade has compared the figure with other examples of the Celtic Triple Goddess in this country
and suggests there are great similarities. He also consulted experts, including Marija Gimbutas, Anne Ross,
Miranda Green, Colin Renfrew, and Janet and Stewart Farrar. They are not agreed on the precise dating of the
figure, which has not yet been subject to professional dating. Some of the evidence suggests a date as early as
1000BCE, while other evidence puts it in the 6th or 7lh century CE.
It is known that the waters of Minster Abbey Well have been valued for their healing properties for a
very long time; recently the water was analysed and found free from impurities. Although it has been
necessary to cap the well for the time being, Brian Slade reports that other wells in the vicinity are producing
publicly available good quality mineral water, and it is he>ped that this will eventually be the case with the
Minster Abbey Well water.
The fame of the water and of the goddess has certainly spread. Sharon and Ian White, a local couple,
told the Sheppey Gazette (15:12:93) that after trying unsuccessfully for some years to have children, Sharon
gave birth to twins — after her husband had helped bring up the figure. This was also featured in a national
women's magazine.
The pamphlets are available for £2 each, or £3.50 for both, from Brian Slade, 'Santa Maria', 8 Queen's
Rd., Minster-on-Sea, Isle of Sheppey, Kent ME12 2HD. Anyone requiring further information or wishing to
see the goddess should contact him, by post or by phone 01795 875036.
Asphodel
10
IT S NEARLY
MIDWINTER
Down now. Down in to the darkest deepest time.
Down now. To the point of pause, stilling to silence like a death.
The hubble and bubble of modern life goes on on top; the 'busyness' for "Christmas".
I feel yearnings to walk round markets in Norwich, as I used to walk round street markets in London.
Lights shining in the dark and the rain; the street wet and muddy, clogged with trampled cauliffower leaves,
soggy cardboard and dropped gloves. Traders calls, music from a dozen trannies, bargains on the stalls, glitter,
hustle, bustle, laughs. A cold dripping nose, hand clutching the purse in the pocket, gifts for my kids,
imagining the excited eyes as they tear off the wrapping, pounds of cheap veggies, a Christmas tree, holly,
mistletoe — even at the end of the day: stuff almost given away, maybe even a turkey. A cuppa by a tea-stall,
or even an un-idcnlifiable slab of something claiming to be a hamburger in a bun. With onions. And mustard.
The smell of hot onions wafting over the stalls... the crowded bus home...
Yes, there's a nostalgia in me for all that. But is it there any more? The world has changed under
Thatcher and Major. There was fun and camaraderie then. I lived on the fringes of a tribe. Not quite a
Ce)ckney, but my grandfather was... not quite part of this gutsy Londoner thing. But I was a Londoner and
when I rarely now swing from the handle of an Underground train it isn't the London I was part of. But is it
still there? The Cockney traders may have become Essex men but others shift in to take over the same roles;
West Indians, Asians, a rich mix of races and cultures that London must always have been, and this spirit of
London flows ein the same no matter who plays the part.
But I left London. I moved on. My meirumes of times such as these take their place beside memories of
medieval faires and ancient celebrations on sacred hilltops. Magical highlights that stand out as baubles in the
memory thmugh time and dim the rest: the hardship, the pain, the struggle.
Something has changed in England now. Would I find it, wandering the slippery sloping stalls of
Norwich market; treading on se)ggy chips and muddy cauliflower leaves: the lights, the rain, the glitter, the
canned carols; looking at everything I have not the money to buy. Money, money, money...
I left it. I came north.
Here, Woolworths is crowded with expensive goodies and I don't know how anyone here has the
money for them, but so many people here seem to have money...
And I move towards midwinter, and yearn for the rest of my family, and is it only a dream that
sometime we could share a Christmas together again...
Midwinter. Under this level. Going down into the deep stillness. Deep in the cold cave. Cold into
unthinking. Plants and trees sleep, conserving their energy. Seeds lie frozen, full of the life to come; the burst
of spring; that promise. Animals in the deep, deep sleep of hibernation; others scuttling and helping, pecking
a meagre meal here and there; the sudden kill...
Midwinter. Alme)st now it comes too soon, turns before we grasp we are there and the hardness of
winter comes after, the deprivation as the light begins to grow again.
Midwinter. A need to acknowledge and BE with the deep stillness, enter it and recognise it; be with it
fully and totally. Underworld. Dark deep stillness of death. Be deep. Be still. Let it BE.
Midwinter. Longest night, shortest day. The sun has little power now, even at its brightest does not thaw
the frost, the snow, icy fingers, frozen minds. The deep arc of darkness. I am grateful for even one warm room,
woolly jumpers, a fire U> sit by — fruit of my own labours, worth all that work, that summer time spent at the
peats, when I thought P'slwuld'be doing other things...
Still. Another cycle nearly over. Another swing of the pendulum nearly done.
Pause. All those he)pes of high summer, slip down again to this dark still cold.
I want to place the year, the years, here at this deep moment. I want te) step out of the past and all that
has dragged me down and hindered me, like stepping out of an old familiar heavy overcoat. When the new sun
11
rises on the dawn after the dark has turned, I want to step into the new year with my whole self and move
forward into the growing potential of the new year and maybe realise a little more of it this time round.
So we could say of lifetimes.
How like each year is to each life; the rising into potential and the sinking down either into the
contentment of it having been a good one, or the despair and resignation of realising we blew it... again...
This time I want to fulfil some potential... next year... soon to be this year... not next lifetime... well,
maybe set the karmic seeds for a big change... fulfil something this year, this life... and a bit more next... It's
about time!... each year a little life. Somehow living up here the pattern seems clearer, the cycles more
distinct; circular spirals of time more apparent than the linear; each year seems like a lifetime, yet all the years
blend into a memory of one.
Midwinter. The dark cloak of night and dark and the depth of midwinter round me does not give me
warmth.
A single candle.
Out.
Pause.
Stop.
Dark.
Cold.
Still.
Completely.
Then the new tiny flickering light lit anew and the new year begins to grow again.
Even "Christmas" is a celebration of the new year, the new sun, the birth of the new from the death of
the old.
By the time Hogmanay comes it's well on... Have a good party!
Slainte mhath!
Jill Smith
MOONS and SUNS to Spring Equinox (London GMT)
December
January
January
February
March
March
December 21st
December 22nd
February 1st
February 2nd
March 20th
March 21st
New Moon
Full Moon
1st 10.56
30th 22.48
16th 20.26
Sun enters
Capricorn 22nd 02.23
Aquarius 20th 13.00
15th 12.15
17th 01.26
Pisces
Aries
1st 11.48
31st 02.09
Sun rises
08.03
08.04
07.39
07.38
Sun sets
15.53
15.54
16.49
16.51
18.13
06.02
19th 03.11
21st 02.14
Solstice 02.23
Equinox 02.14
12
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Lex Hixon. Mother of the Universe. Quest Books $16 (available from some UK bookshops).
Ramprasad is one of the great Indian mystics and poets, comparable to Rumi and Kabir, who are
currently much better known in the West. Selections from his poems have been previously published, but are
not easy to find. Now. at last we have a major version of about half his output of two hundred and fifty songs.
These are versions rather than translations. Instead of explaining the background of Ramprasad's spirituality
through notes, Hixon has incorporated these into the texts. The result reads smoothly, and give the impression
of conveying Ramprasad's thoughts and feelings. However. I would have liked to have had at least one
accurate translation so as to get some idea of what Hixon has added.
Ramprasad is a lover, a passionate devotee of Kali. He sees Her as Mother Reality, as the Black
Goddess, as Mother Wisdom, who "as the radiant blackness of divine mystery ... plays through the lotus
wilderness of the sacred human body". Hixon. who himself has been accepted into the tradition founded by Sri
Ramakrishna. another mystic and devotee of Kali, says that "The way of Mother Wisdom, always marked by
playfulness and surprise, is the gradual realisation of her indivisible wholeness, which is our own essential
nature, timeless wholeness".
The poems are sometimes difficult to assimilate if one is not already sympathetic to Hindu traditions.
But for all of us who care for Wisdom, who love the Dark Goddess, the radiant blackness of Kali shown in
these poems will provide an illuminating vision.
Daniel Cohen
Fay Sampson. A Free Man on Sunday. Lion Books. £2.50.
This children's book first appeared in 1987, and the paperback came out in 1990; the book may only be
available in libraries. So why am I reviewing it now? I have just been at a gathering on The Magic of Story at
Hawkwood, and one of the questions we were asked was " What is the story the land is telling you?" I found
that it was this story, which is worth looking back to in this year of the Criminal (In)justice Act.
I was born in Manchester in 1934, and when I was a child my father often took me rambling in
Derbyshire, in Edale and around and up Kinder Scout. These Derbyshire hills of the Peak District were easily
accessible by train or bus, and even by bicycle, in those days, and were the nearest wild country to the big city.
People in factories and offices worked a five-and-a-half day week then, and on Saturday afternoon and
Sunday many went walking in these green valleys and bleak hills. The big landowners kept the moorlands for
grouse, and did not permit walking on the tops. Walking was restricted to pathways which were mostly at the
lower levels. Gamekeepers would turn people away if they attempted to go further, and paths were often
blocked.
This book is written from the point of view of a young girl who went walking with her lather most
Saturdays. On 24th April 1932. they took part in a mass trespass onto the moors of Kinder Scout, in protest
against the restrictions on walking. Though only six people out of the six hundred or so present were arrested,
sentences of six months for riotous assembly were imposed.
14
The protests led some seventeen years later to the establishment of the Peak District National Park, but
there is still no general right to walk freely on the moors, and footpaths continue to get closed (both legally and
illegally).
Ewan MacColl wrote, in a song composed some years after the trespass,
No man has the right to own mountains
Any more than the deep ocean bed
and. in the lines which give the title to this book.
I may be a wage-slave on Monday
But I am a free man on Sunday.
The book reminds us the costs of the struggles against injustice and for freedom. And reading it now
reminds us also, unfortunately, that freedom and justice can be lost as well as gained, and that the struggle may
have to be renewed, perhaps not once but many times.
(Harold Sculthorpe 's "Freedom to Roam ", Freedom Press 1993, £3.50, gives facts about the Kinder
Scout mass trespass, and discusses the many restrictions on walking in the country which remain and are
increasing.)
Daniel Cohen
ai.
We have now received the first two issues of Source, the journal of holy wells (see our exchange
listings). These have consisted of thirty-two A4 pages of interesting articles on individual wells, wells of an
area, the meanings of sacred wells, and other matters. The current issue's editorial discusses what to do if one
wants to restore an old holy well, and there is a report by someone who has done so.
We also learn from Source that money is available from the European Community for the conservation
of architectural heritage, the them for 1995 is religious monuments, which does include holy wells. Priority
will be given to projects aimed at conservation of monuments still serving their original purpose as places of
worship. They are supposed to demonstrate an outstanding religious, historic, architectural, artistic and social
value of European importance. Doubtless not all these criteria are essential. Closing date for applications is 3f
January 1995, and Source has some copies of the application forms.
An Association of Hedge-Witches has been set up. as a contact network for witches who work solo or in
couples. No membership fee. Send an s.a.e. and three first class stamps to Geoff Wright, 67 Lewin Rd.,
London SW16 6JZ.
The previous item leads me to ask "How many solitary witches does it lake to change a lightbulb?"
Many organisations offer the possibility of planting a tree to increase woodlands and in
commemoration of events in one's life (the birth of a child, the death of a friend, or simply as a present). They
range from the very conventional such as the Woodland Trust to groups such as Treespirit (see our exchange
listings), from Findhorn's Trees for Life to Odinshof 's Land Guardians; the last, though, is more concerned to
raise money to buy a wood than in planting individual trees.
A coven in Milton Keynes has been seeking council permission to celebrate the festivals on
council-owned open ground. Despite predictable opposition from some Christian clergymen, permission has
been given. With the main avenue in Milton Keynes being called Midsummer Avenue, and aligned to solstice
sunrise, perhaps Milton Keynes will become the pagan capital of England.
15
Dear Wood and Water,
Thank you for the excellent Autumn issue. I greatly appreciate the memorial letter by Asphodel for the
late Baron Strathloch of Clonegal. I was also closely interested in the article "Roads to Ruin" by Wren Sidhe.
Very prophetic! I attach a symbolic map of Dyrham and Hinton, which shows the possibility that the new
Motorway to Tormarton roundabout on the M4 will damage our sacred environment here, which would be
disastrous.
Best wishes to WW.
Charles Shepherd
(Charles often sends us beautiful illustrated letters, but it is not easy to reproduce the illustrations for
our readers. The pictures following omit all his wonderful colouring.)
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